Day Fourteen

14^th May 2009     SCOTLAND

How many roads must a man walk down….

I went to sleep last night with an image in my head of God walking around the garden of Eden kicking stones waiting for the arrival of Adam and Eve… This morning I wake up in amongst the long grass and bird song… I say wake up… half of me is still in the land of nod, the sound of a blackbird and his pals get caught up in the image of the garden that still lingers in my half-asleep thoughts…. I look at the time… bang on four o’clock… makes me wonder what time blackbirds go to bed. For the next two, three hours I try and get a little more sleep… I drift (and the blackbird follows me) between the long grass that I lay in and the garden in Genesis and then back again. I think it’s curious how the story of Adam and Eve starts in a garden (… and I do think it is a story… but like any good fictional literature, be it Charles Dickens’s Bleak House, Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment or any of the other great authors from around the world… there can be a profound truth found in fiction). So why start the story of humanity in a garden? I think for most of us when imagining a garden we see it as a safe place… a place to relax, to be with family and friend its what’s on the other side of the fence, as it were (the unknown) that can be a little intimidating… similar to what I talked of yesterday, making ready a bedroom for a little one… lift them up and show them the world outside the window… the many people walking up and down the street, cars whizzing by, dogs barking, trees swaying in the wind, the wheels of a bus going round and round…there’s a big wide world out there… exciting but at the same time a little bit scary. We kinda need a safe space (a garden) … but we also have an unstoppable desire to climb over the fence… out of the window… its by continuously pushing boundaries (stepping in to the unknown) that allows us as individuals and as a people to grow. A man strapped into a rocket and then stepping onto the Moon for the first time, I think is pretty much the same as a little one being strapped into a buggy and stepping into a nursery school for the first time… we are hardwired for adventures… once the mission is completed (be it collecting rock samples from the surface of the moon or the making of handprints on a sheet of paper at a nursery) both astronaut and toddler long to return home… I guess God knew we needed a place that we could call home… sorry I again rattle on… I’m not even out of my sleeping bag yet.

I check the time again; it is nearly seven… I should get up but it’s kinda cosy in the sleeping bag … maybe another ten minutes. I don’t have such a long day today, just short of a thumb print (… I’m guessing a little over 15 miles) to reach the town of Milngavie. Another ten minutes go by before I climb out of my sleeping bag… I am standing on the edge of a field in amongst the long grass in underpants pulling a T-shirt over my head, as my head comes out of the T- shirt a couple on the other side of the wall walk past… I look at them, then look down at what I’m wearing and then look at them again… the chap calls out a “Good Morning” … I say “Good Morning” back… and then the lady calls out “Nice pants” … I look down and again look up… not really sure what to say to that… I give an awkward grin a nod of the head and say “Thanks” … a moment later they are gone. I get dressed real quick, pack my bag and climb over the wall… glad to be out of my overnight garden and into the world of the unknown.

I decide not to follow the West Highland Way, instead I will stick to the country roads, in the hope of passing a small shop or even a café… and maybe some breakfast… if not breakfast a cup of tea. The sun again is out… the roads are quiet, twisting their way through the countryside, alongside fields and over a number of rivers and streams… giving me the chance to have a quick wash, refill my water bottle and brush my teeth. I enjoy the walking on these back roads, the different flowers and grasses on the verges, the hedge rows and trees, occasionally stumbling cross a mature tree (a tree that I think was probably here long before this track ever saw tarmac… the days of horse and cart… I wonder at how many people have travelled this way before… where were they going and what of their stories. A couple of days ago my brother’s daughter text me ‘Hey Unc, so tell me how many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man’… how many indeed… I think once I reach the south coast of Britain, I would need to cross the English Channel and carry-on walking south through Europe, find a way across the Med and just keep going and till I reach the Cape of Good Hope… and still I wonder if that would be enough…

A good few hours into the walk I come across the Glengoyne Distillery… I step into the grounds, in the hope of a cup of tea. The place does guided tours, the lady behind the reception tells me to wait for a moment, she is just in the middle of making herself a cuppa… two minutes later she comes back from a back room with a mug of tea for me… “Thank you”. I learn this whiskey distillery dates back legally to 1833… prior to that date, like over a dozen others distillery in the area (now long gone) were hidden in amongst the hills and forests, producing whisky illegally, due to the heavy taxes on spirit production back in the early 19th century… I guess it would take a whole lot more than just high taxes to stop Scotland from producing whisky. After the tea I take the mug back to reception, say thank you and then back on the road… how many roads indeed.

The question of ‘how many roads must a man walk down’ stays with me… and in my head I am again back in the garden of Eden… a man, a woman, the garden and God… a God that tells us He created mankind in His own image, both male and female… and that idea is reinforced later on in the Gospels… we are told, we must be perfect as our Heavenly Father is perfect. I know some people reading this maybe of a different faith or don’t hold to any particular religion, for some faith in the people around them and a belief in the natural world is enough (… if I’m honest I think I tick all those boxes). I don’t want to get caught up in a theological discussion… I want to touch on what is universal (the pencil falling to the ground kinda stuff) ... only I have this garden stuck in my head… for the moment run with me… sorry… walk with me. I want to unpack this garden story a little and see if I can find a falling pencil.

…so what of this garden… pretty high up on God’s CV is the ability to create… and yet when we head into the hills or a wilderness we don’t find manicured lawns or flower beds in straight lines… it is people that create gardens… not God… what God will do is create everything you could possibly need for a garden …but not the garden (… gardeners know if you give God an empty square inch of earth, He will soon squeeze in a dandelion or a couple of nettles to fill the space)… The creation of a garden needs both God and mankind… it is a joint adventure… we are in partnership… created in the image of God… we stand in the position as co-creators.

… created in the image of God… hmm… it is as if, at the beginning of the human story we are given a role model… we must grow to be perfect as our Heavenly Father is perfect… (not the kind of perfection to kick a ball like Beckham… not that kind of perfection… more a perfection of character). I think the story is telling us we should strive to be the very best we can be… and then figure out how we can be better still…

… and what of this falling pencil… for a pencil to fall, you first need a pencil… and like the garden it is only people that know how to put together a pencil… but to make that pencil you need a tree… it is only the natural world (Mother nature) that knows how to grow a tree… and to grow a tree you need a seed…the miracle of a seed I give to God… yeah we know the mechanics of how a mature seed comes about, through pollination, be it the wind or a bumbling bee… but the spark of life within the seed is still a mystery (within a single acorn there is all the information needed to create not just an oak tree but generations of oak trees) … a tiny wee miracle wrapped up in a hard case… maybe not everybody reading this has a faith in God… but the mysteries within a seed that is something to believe in… and who knows what will grow from that simple believe… faith maybe … I don’t know… Anyway, back to our pencil… step into the garden and throw the pencil up into the sky… and watch the laws of the universe step into action (physics I think they call it) … the pencil falls back down to earth... Mankind, the creation, the laws of the universe and God we are all in this adventure together.

I have just re-read the last handful of chapters… I’m a little concerned… inside my head my thoughts made perfectly good sense, written down on paper I’m not so sure… if they fall flat on the ground… it’s not my fault… I blame the physics.

Another hour and a little more of walking on tarmac goes by, the small country lanes turn into slightly bigger roads… I walk into the small village of Blanefield and come across a small café called the Pestle and Mortar. I step inside to the sound of a little bell above the door, a young lady looks up from behind the counter with a good morning and a smile… I am glad of the smile… I say a “Good morning” and feeling a little bit awkward as I step into my explanation of what it is I’m doing, I finish with “…. a cup of tea would be great” … I am told to go sit next to the window and ten minutes later I have a mug of tea and a huge breakfast roll in front of me… wow. Sat in front of the window… trying not to make to bigger mess with the breakfast roll, I already have egg yolk on my sleeve and ketchup running down the side of one hand, halfway through the roll a second mug of tea is brought over… "Thank you... really thank you” … we chat a little and that’s nice. Half an hour goes by before I step back under the door with the little bell… “Thank you again Jill”.

It kinda feels like I’m coming to the end of the Scottish part of this walk… mountain and woodland tracks have turned into tarmac… tomorrow I will be walking in amongst tower blocks and city streets instead of the hills and glens… I wonder if Ireland, Wales and England will be as kind to me as Scotland has been… there is just one last favour I would appreciate from Scotland and that is to get me onto a boat to Ireland.

It will not take me to long before I’m in Milngavie, meeting up with Arthur and the gang. The road climbs steadily out of both Blanefield and the next village of Strathblane… I don’t know how many roads a man must walk down before you can call him a man (…or come to that, how many roads a woman must walk down before you can call her a woman) … maybe it’s not about how many roads we walk on… but how long we walk for and who with… a good starting point (and again I say maybe) is to walk and live as if God did exist… just for two or three weeks or maybe (like this walk) for forty days. Start the day with a ‘Good morning God’… finish the day with a ‘Good night God’ and in between throw in a few thank you’s. It is with this kind of mind set that has got me from the top of Scotland to the outskirts of Glasgow… to hold the idea in my head that I have God walking alongside me, makes me try harder… to do what is right… to be incredibly grateful for what I am given… be it a cup of tea, a bite to eat, a bed for the night or a genuine smile and when the day is done I close my eyes and quietly whisper a “Thank you”.

I walk into Milngavie at three, its not long before I find the Premier Hotel, I give Arthur a text, he is nearby with Irina having a cup of tea, the rest of the gang are not yet here. We meet up at the hotel… it is good to see the both of them, the room is sorted out. Arthur tells me a meal is booked next door at the restaurant ‘the Beefeater’ at 4:30 pm. That gives me a little over an hour. I step into the room and turn on the hot water for a bath, find some bubbles and tip that into the tub… ten minutes later I sink into the bath and spend most of the hour that I have soaking. Just before 4:30 Arthur comes and gets me… we walk over to the restaurant (… Arthur walks, I hobble). I am met by eight people and five faiths… how good is that it is great to sit down and share a meal with people I know… I say thank you to each and every one, they didn’t have to come but they did. Earlier I said perfection was not to kick a ball like Beckham… hmm I wonder… the word ‘sin’ means ‘to miss the mark’… maybe back in that garden in Genesis if we had had someone that could kick a ball like Beckham, we would have hit the mark (the goal) … how different history would have been… there would not have been the need for different faiths… just the one family.